


in broken pieces, i am

by everylosttouch



Series: the dark, the cold, the lonely [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things, Alec Lightwood Needs A Hug, Alec is Not Okay, Angst, Cutting, Hospitalization, Hurt Alec Lightwood, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Magnus is both pissed and sad, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, accidental suicide attempt, graphic depictions of self harm, he just wants his boyfriend to be okay, no beta we die like men, ungodly amounts of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:49:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22323604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everylosttouch/pseuds/everylosttouch
Summary: where the reality of what Alec does to himself hits him, but he can't stop.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Series: the dark, the cold, the lonely [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1606948
Comments: 4
Kudos: 128





	in broken pieces, i am

**Author's Note:**

> guess who's back with another angsty one shot ft Alec's mental health???
> 
> lmao you'd think after 3 or 4 of these i'd stop but n o p e  
> also this is almost 2.4k of just plain angst, nothing else
> 
> no specific insp for this one and i will note that it is a bit darker than the others (if thats at all possible)
> 
> cw/tw for the following:
> 
> self-harm  
> suicide attempt (accidental, but still addressed)  
> depression

It’s bright.

That’s the first thing that crosses his mind as the blinding haze of consciousness pulls over his eyelids. It’s a quick on and off, like someone holds a strobe light to his eyes. He can’t focus on it, eyes too hazy to make out anything against the brightness. 

He tries blinking, though his eyes are heavy and the simple task of close-open becomes impossible. His mind spins, unable to focus.

Everything is spinning. Why is it spinning?

It takes tremendous effort to open his eyes again. The haze clears slightly, and he can make out the textures above him, the crossed lines and paneling in linear succession with the blinding lights.  _ It’s a ceiling, _ his brain helpfully supplies. It’s a ceiling that’s moving above him, which means he must be moving. But his body is heavy. He can’t feel anything. 

_ How am I moving? _

He must be lying down. There’s no way he’s able to move. Something is moving under him, around him. His vision hazes again, in and out like a camera trying to focus, but inevitably can’t. 

As his vision hazes, his hearing clears just slightly. There are conversations around him, loud conversations, words he can’t quite make out or understand. There’s an incessant beeping in the distance, and he can’t help but wince.

_ Turn it off. _

There’s a jolt, he’s not sure why. He tries lifting his eyes again, hazy shapes and dark splotches fading in and out of his cloudy field of vision. A slow, torturous blink clears the fog for a second, but it’s long enough to see faces covered by masks, eyes full of fear, concern, and shock. Their lips move. Maybe they’re asking him something, but he can’t make out the words. It’s too cloudy.

It’s the hand that grasps his that’s the first thing to jolt him back into his body. It feels like a livewire, shocking him and pulsing life back into his lungs. There’s warmth from it that seeps into him, heating his cold body. But there’s also a sharp chill, like metal, caressing the spaces between his fingers. The shapes are familiar, nostalgic, and somehow he can connect who the hand belongs to immediately.

He squeezes the hand--or tries to--but his body is still so heavy. 

The effort must translate, as there’s a responsive squeeze back. It’s gentle, but rough. It almost hurts.

_ I’m right here, Alexander. I’m right here. _

He doesn’t have the strength to respond, can’t move his lips or tilt his head to the source of the only sound he can hear. There’s a cavity in his chest, a heavy weight in his lungs that keeps him from breathing. The beeping that’s so loud speeds up further, and suddenly the ceiling tiles above him are disappearing. The blinding lights become unbearably brighter. Unable to keep his eyes open, they roll back with several heavy flutters of his eyelids.

The light is the last thing he sees.

xXx

There’s no telling how long it’s been when Alec’s eyes have the strength to open again.

The lights are still too bright, and his eyes are still sensitive, but it doesn’t ache as much anymore. His eyelids flutter open, no longer weighed down by an unexplainable pressure. The ceiling above him is crisp and clear, and he can make out the small black specks contrasting against the stark white material. The sounds are clearer too, with that still incessant, steady beeping in his ears. 

_ God, turn it off. _

A press to his hands stirs him from his irritation, and his eyes dart down from the ceiling and over to the touch. 

_ Magnus. _

“Hey,” Magnus greets quietly, meeting Alec’s eyes. His voice is rough and gravelly, like he’s been choked. “You’re awake.”

Alec nods singularly, swallowing. He winces almost immediately at how dry his throat is. 

“Do you need some water?” Magnus asks, somehow knowing Alec’s exact thoughts. When Alec nods, Magnus turns, pouring him a glass of water from the pitcher the nurses must have brought in. He turns back to Alec a minute later, offering the glass to his lips.

He finds it odd at first, why Magnus wouldn’t simply hand him the glass. But as he goes to raise his arms, there’s a sharp stab of pain that shoots up the muscle. 

_ Oh. _

_ That’s right. _

His eyes cast down, meeting the horrors that have been carved into his skin. There are several angry lines painted horizontally across his wrists. There are a few that have been sewn back together, a little too deep for him to simply slap a bandage over and smile through the pain. But those don’t phase him, not those small, barely-a-scratch cuts. No.

It’s the monster that crawls up his arm in vertical succession, deep and angry and all-consuming, that’s the most haunting. 

There are two of them on each arm, almost matching. The skin has been sewn back together, tied by stark black wire. Though the wound has been cleaned and his arms are free of blood, he feels sick. 

He swallows thickly, forgetting about the water pouring down his throat. It takes him by surprise and suddenly he’s coughing up water, gasping and wheezing as Magnus pulls the glass away, quickly abandoning it on the table. 

“ _ Easy, _ ” Magnus consoles, taking Alec’s hand in his own. “Take a breath, Alexander. Breathe, baby.”

Alec inhales shakily, lungs burning and aching. His eyes sting and his arms throb painfully. The beeping speeds up beside him, and Magnus is there, whispering small nothings to try and calm him down. 

Finally, Alec seems to catch his breath. The monitor slows down again and Alec’s eyes glance back down to his arms. 

“‘m in the hospital, aren’t I?” Alec finally mutters out. He knows the answer, seeing as there’s no other way the stitches would be in his arms or the electrodes on his chest or the completely _white_ surroundings of the room  if he wasn’t.

Magnus hums. “You are.”

“--ow’d I get here?”

“Jace,” Magnus replies tersely. He licks his lips, brushing his fingertips against his facial hair. His mind is a storm, Alec knows. He can see it building in the dark hues of his lover’s eyes. “He went over to check on you, said you weren’t responding to anyone’s texts. He--He found you in the bathroom, bleeding out on the floor. The next thing I know, I’m getting a call from Jace saying that you’re on your way to the hospital and that you nearly tried to--” 

He cuts himself off then, trying to take a steady breath that fails. “I left work the second Jace called me, and  _ god, Alec _ \--” 

His voice cracks painfully as the thought shatters. His face contorts into a wince, lips trembling and tears welling against his eyelids.

“I’ve never been more terrified in my life,” he confesses. “The whole drive here, I was trying to keep it together. I couldn’t help but think, what if I got here too late? What if I’d get here and they’d tell me that you had bled out and--” Magnus sobs audibly as he turns from Alec, and it makes Alec’s chest throb painfully. 

Magnus hardly ever cries. In fact, Alec can count the number of times he’s seen his boyfriend cry on one hand. It’s never been like this though. He’s never seen Magnus so disheveled and shattered, unable to even complete a sentence without choking up.

Seeing Magnus--his strong, powerful boyfriend, reduced to broken sentences and kohl-stained tears--breaks him.

“I’m sorry,” Alec apologizes, the words tasting foreign on his tongue. “I didn’t think--”

“No, you didn’t,” Magnus cuts in bitterly. There’s spite in his tone, but it’s riddled with sadness. Brown eyes focus on Alec’s hand, ringed fingers brushing over the skin there. “I’m sorry,” he sighs out. “I’m not--I’m not mad at you, I’m just…”

“I know.”

In truth, Alec  _ doesn’t _ know. He has no idea what Magnus’ thoughts are--unlike Magnus, who always seems to know what Alec is thinking. Alec can only imagine how worried Magnus was, especially considering that he had to wait what could’ve been hours outside an operating room, wondering if his boyfriend was going to make it out alive or not.

There’s a long press of silence, with nothing but the heartbeat monitor beeping steadily. 

“Are they here?” Alec asks, finally breaking the silence.

“Your family?”

Alec nods.

“They are. They’re just down the hall, waiting to see you. The doctors were...hesitant to say the least to have me in here before your family, but Isabelle and Jace insisted I go first.”

_ It makes sense _ , Alec thinks. Magnus knows this the best, has dealt with it on more than one occasion. He’s the one constant in Alec’s life, who’s stayed with him through every ugly relapse and every night he wants to leap off from the rooftops. He knows how to calm Alec down when the world is falling apart at the seams. 

It’s not that his family hasn’t been there for him. But they haven’t dealt with it in the way Magnus has. 

“How’s my mom?”

“About as good as she can be knowing that her son almost died,” Magnus replies grimly. “Alexander--”

“I didn’t die. I wasn’t going to--”

“You  _ were, _ Alexander,” Magnus pushes. “If Jace hadn’t have found you when he did, then you would’ve bled out on our bathroom floor with no one the wiser. Then I would’ve come home after work and seen the corpse of the man I love, and would’ve had to tell his family that I wasn’t there to save him.” His voice is angry, full of betrayal and sadness. “You were going to die, Alexander. You hit rock bottom.”

Alec disagrees. Though he can’t quite recall the thoughts that ran through his mind prior to passing out, he doesn’t believe that he’d hit rock bottom. It felt awful, sure, but it wasn’t his lowest. His lowest would be begging for a release, attempting to claw out his stitches right here and now because he couldn’t stand the point of living. And though there’s a dread in his chest with having to face his family over this, he isn’t begging to die.

He hasn’t hit rock bottom yet.

“I did,” he lies instead. “I...I’m sorry.”

There’s a deep sigh from Magnus, as his hands take Alec’s once more. “You know that there are people that love you, right?” Magnus starts meekly. “You know that I love you...don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” Alec counters. He knows how much Magnus loves him; it’s something he proves every day. He knows that his family will go to hell and back for him, and beyond. But all of their love doesn’t compensate for the fact that he doesn’t love himself, that he will always view himself as a waste of space and resources that could be better used for someone who needs it. “I love all of you too. So much.”

The words don’t seem to comfort Magnus. Alec can practically see the insecurity flaring off of Magnus in waves. There’s no telling what Magnus is thinking, but Alec has seen this side of him before. He blames himself for not being there, for not being strong or powerful enough to keep the man he loves safe. 

“Magnus,” Alec calls out gently, reaching up with a heavy hand to caress his boyfriend’s cheek. His thumb wipes away at the stray, blackened tears that fall down his face. “None of this is your fault.”

“I know,” he says a bit unconvincingly. He licks his lips nervously, pressing a chaste kiss to the interior of Alec’s palm. “I just wish there was some way I could help you.”

“You can,” Alec reassures. “You  _ are _ . Having you here makes the bad days better, it makes living bearable. Two years ago I was in a much different place than I am now. I know it may not seem like it, but I’m better than before. You’ve done so much for me, Magnus. Truly.”

Magnus takes in Alec’s words, eyes locked on his decimated arms before pressing another firm kiss against his hand. 

“We’re going to get you some help,” Magnus starts carefully. “Professional help. Help that not I, nor your family can give you. I know there’s no such thing as going back to normal after something like this, but--but if it can make the bad days just a little bit better, it’s worth a try, isn’t it?”

Alec nods. Honestly, his brain knows that this is wrong, this isn’t a way of life that he should be living. But at the same time, he doesn’t want to stop. He can’t stop. There’s not much anyone can do to stop him, he thinks. No rehab houses, no betterment programs, no TED talks can set him forward. He hasn’t hit rock bottom yet, and he can’t stop until he does. 

“Alexander,” Magnus calls, pulling him out from the dark tunneling thoughts in his head. Brown eyes meet hazel. Storm clouds build in his lover’s eyes, with beams of hopeful sunlight trying to peer across their horizons. “Can you promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“Promise me you’ll try?”

A clumsy smile pulls at Alec’s lips, an attempt to give hope that he can’t feel. “I will,” he promises. “I’ll try.”

There’s the beginnings of a hopeful smile in Magnus’ eyes, and he leans forward, pressing a chaste--yet meaningful--kiss to Alec’s far too chapped lips. 

“Do you want me to go get your family?” Magnus asks gently on a whisper after they part. Alec gives a small nod, quelling the nauseous feeling bubbling underneath his skin. “Okay. I’ll be right back, alright?”

With another nod, he watches as Magnus rises on sturdy legs, turning away from him before disappearing out the door. As he watches Magnus disappear, his hands wander to the stitches, across the deep and shallow cuts on his arm. He scratches absentmindedly until the familiar burn settles under his skin.

He’ll try.

_ Tomorrow. _

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me over on twitter @the_biconic_mb


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